Yom Kippur began at sunset last night. Observant Jews will pray most of the day, and will fast from a bit before sunset last night until a bit after sunset tonight, a total of 25 hours. That extra hour seems to be just to make sure you cover the 'required' 24 hour period. And it's about as strict a fast as you can imagine -- no food, nothing to drink, don't brush your teeth, don't bathe (at least not bathing for pleasure), no sex, no work. But, at least as I understand it, you alone are the judge of whether that fast is too hard on you. You don't have to get permission from anyone else to excuse yourself from fasting -- not from a priest (good thing, there haven't been any Jewish priests since about 2000 years ago when the last Temple was destroyed), not from a Rabbi, you don't need a doctor's note.
I actually completed a fast once, about forty years ago.
About fifteen years ago I got 'elected' -- more like drafted -- to be president of a small congregation. I wrote this for our monthly newsletter.
Why I Don't Like Yom Kippur
What's to like? We don't eat. Typically we sit crowded cheek to jowl in a room that's got more than enough space the rest of the year. The most predictable bit of enlightenment is the surprise of seeing someone in the crowd whom we thought was gentile, or dead. We think hard for things to feel guilty about, starting with specifics that don't apply to most of us, but ending up with the sins of not making the most of ourselves and of our lives, a catch-all if ever there was one. As we get hungrier and wonder if we haven't atoned enough, we get to the prayer that assures us that we could never atone enough to deserve forgiveness, but maybe we'll be let off anyway on the chance we might do better in the coming year.
It's pretty heavy. No wonder some people feel Judaism is based on guilt. For twice-a-year Jews, that's about all there is. But on the heels of Yom Kippur comes Sukkot. And on Sukkot we're supposed (yea, commanded) to be completely joyful. What should we make of this prescription for a 180-degree mood swing?
Perhaps it's a subtle way of telling us that we have atoned enough. Not enough to deserve forgiveness, of course, but enough to get on with life. We probably didn't get it right, but we tried long enough, so it's time to party. Eat. We sure ought to be hungry. Taken as a package deal, then, the High Holidays including Sukkot aren't just a trip to the somber depths of introspective guilt, they're a round trip to those depths, followed by a lovely harvest festival, complete with camping in an outdoor pantry. Maybe it's wise. A dose of heavy insight about the deepest recesses of our souls is followed by some lightweight construction and partying: we might learn something less than flattering about ourselves, but we don't have time to dwell on it and get depressed.
Twice-a-year Judaism is a very dutiful religion, but it sure misses the fun parts. Jews excel at guilt and cooking, and that goes double for Beth Am. If you make it through Yom Kippur, you still might not deserve forgiveness, but you sure have earned a good meal in the sukkah. Do a mitzvah--enjoy Sukkot! Later, when the assumption that we have been inscribed in the Book of Life for another year sinks in, consider these words from Garrison Keillor's Devarim From Lake Wobegone: "It's a hard job trying to repair all the mistakes we make in life, but we should be grateful for the work."